Years

feel the cold wrinkled soul of the lonely old man
just lying there waiting to die…
rests his back on a sack
of aluminum cans,
with the life flowing out of his eyes.

the world he once knew
had passed as he grew
and like a pair of worn shoes was replaced,
the house he called home
and his warm comfort zone,
were torn down
to open up space.

it could’ve been worse he thought to himself
as his hope perked like a pound puppy’s ears,
but days bounced like boulders
on his chest
and his shoulders
as they piled up
into years.

his energy waned
as he wrestled and strained
the concrete sidewalk was stained from the fight,
the cardboard box he called home
a makeshift personal zone,
had been torn from the rain overnight.

with one final breath
he almost welcomed his death
it seemed so peaceful and damn right inviting…